to do? Of course, I factored in the circumstances of her upbringing, and it was impossible not to connect her anger and aggressiveness to the fact of the death of the banker who was not me. Such a circumstance is referred to as a Developmental Perturbation, as in the usual emotional development of a young person is stunted by events.
Zona never mentioned a best friend from home or any romantic relationship from her past. While her sister lives nearby, I saw that she did not offer Zona a place to stay, even temporarily, in her rather big house. The Sister landed in the insurance business, became quite senior, and, later, on the fire-pit deck up north, she told me that her employers’ standard executive psychological testing showed that she lacked empathy. Springing forward a few years, Zona’s employers’ psych test concluded that she was competent but “I wouldn’t want to be her friend”. Or her confused hubby. Two sisters, two tests, same essential result. My tests like that say I’m executive material and that I’m loyal, as in too loyal.
My inventory of who in the world was ever on her side came up to zero, although her mother was still around and she had siblings, she was clearly and utterly alone in her full of fear mind. We both were alone, I felt sorry for her and her history, post partum psychosis is a real thing, moving on from tragedy is standard human behaviour, she was smart, everyone said so, I thought she would respond to a safe environment, she was, it seemed to me, broken and afraid every minute of every day, pretending to be anything but.
I decide to give it my best shot, being somewhat of a boy scout, help her to cross the road to a bit more normal. Around this time, the Literature says my brain is undergoing changes as a result of the stress chemicals swirling about, caused by my constant confusion about her anti-relationship, fucked up and bitchy behaviour, and one result is my now lifelong case of Complex PTSD.
The literature on physical rapists says that it isn’t the sex that is desired, it is the taking of something from someone. The Literature on Narcissists describes the Hatebombing phase as Emotional Rape, which sounds right, Zona the thief.
A downtown condo was purchased at a good price and time to replace the rental, largely with my mom’s modest bequeathment, to give her some sense of stability. This was my doing, Zona not really participating in our life together or anything else that wasn’t career related, all else was filler, except for Chardonnay and similar.
The other thing I did was to suggest we get a dog and a cat, to give her something to love, none coming my way, so Henry and Pokey came into our lives. In the end, the pets were key to my survival, so maybe they were for me after all. My 6th sense was at work, even back then, I think.
In addition to financial and residential security and the pets, Zona obtained the not so small luxury of a nice place up north, still under-going lots of finishing. She also got support for her career, this tea drinker made her necessary coffee EVERY morning, arranged most meals one way or another, house cleaning, shopping, you get the idea. Since to Zona, the only thing that mattered was her ego affirming career, her too kind husband obtained by lies big and small, enabled her to concentrate fully on the only thing that mattered to her, like a good boy scout, a good partner, would do.
Another thing that mattered to Zona was her visage, perhaps the second most important thing to her, I recall her meticulous eyebrow plucking, perhaps every morning, because Zona’s looks was her joy and her suit of armour, many glances in reflective surfaces at herself, you could almost hear the purring as she basked. She did get the looks in her family and what is visible in soooo important. One time, as she drove home in her convertible, some random guy in a car told her that she was the most beautiful girl he had ever seen. As she told me that story, I had never seen such self satisfaction, such self love, she was beaming with her imagined perfection, kinda like I imagine a cocaine high would be. Zona doesn’t do drugs, just real high on her view of herself.
Things that aren’t publicly visible were not treated with the same care, she didn’t know or care that things were chronically not healthy or pleasant down there, discharge and yellow chunks, never experienced anything like it before or since, please get medical attention I ask. You can imagine how well that went down. Eventually, her doctor says no sex for 30 days–ah, just like always, I thinks.
Then I had to go see my GP only to learn the heartbreaking news that I had an irritated penis. Well, that makes two of us! The vibrations in my body increasing in amplitude, confusion continuing with no answers.
My career was going well, but I had no doubt Zona would eclipse me, and she did, having basically no interests other than pats on the back that she gets and needs, in the same obvious way as Trump. I wasn’t doing much patting, anymore.
We were living the life of Riley, money for dinners out where Zona would tell me all about her wonderfulness and I would know which senior exec was going to need a new job, they were in the sights of a card-carrying psychopath, sowing the seeds among other execs with cutting, well timed remarks, to accomplish the goal, also like Trump does. These folks may convince you they are a team player, but they are a team of one. Lady Diana famously said there were 3 people in her marriage to Charles; I was quite alone in this marriage, doing it all, not sure what to do, constant confusion, but still feeling sorry for this utterly weak and fearful human being.
Being busy city people who get out of the city pretty much every two weeks, we would spend a fair amount of time alone, and during those times Zona was less aggressive/argumentative/difficult just for the sake of. A few girls have told me that, among other things, they like that being around me was a comforting and warm experience and so I was with Zona unless she went too far, too hurtful.
Let me tell you about the very loud alarm clock I helpfully purchased when I saw that Zona HATES getting out of bed. Every work night, Zona would announce that she was getting up early, set the alarm for say 6 am, and when it went off the first time, she would let it blare, then make an angry noise, and roll over hit the snooze button, make another angry noise and go back to sleep for the 10 minutes of snooze. Again, it would blare, again she would repeat the angry snooze button pattern as described above, a total of the ten times the alarm allows before no more snooze and a total of ten times my sleep disturbed. Every work morning is not an exaggeration, her coffee as always pre-made by me as I’m off to work, with a shitty start to my every quite stressful and challenging working day at the hands of someone with no consideration for others and no conscience, at all. Confusing.
After the end of the Lovebombing phase, any positiveness or compliments towards me totalled two, in about 6 years. At the Sisters’ for dinner with tout famille, bored and not paying attention, I hear out of the corner of my ear “John is so good at it”. I note everyone looking at me a bit strangely, it turns out she was talking about bedroom stuff, which I may have heard before, but never from her. In the car going home I mentioned that no such comment was previously uttered by her— “oh, didn’t I” she says. The other was a particularly good joke I made while we were up north, which I followed up with another joke that made the first one better. “I like being married to you; you are so funny”. She actually said that!
Other than those two things, I was the enemy, I was to be disagreed with at virtually every opportunity and if there are other people/contractors around you could see her looking for something to say that would go against my view or plan. Always, like the Literature says, like Trump does.
I spent all one summer replacing the not so small dock with its new twin. When completed it was a good dock on its face and neighbours, passing boaters and visitors would say “nice dock, John”, as you do. When they did, Zona would put her nose in the air, curling smirk on her face and look away, I watched her do it, also every time. Like it is said about Trump, the psychopathic don’t see any reason to be effusive about anyone else and they withhold any positivity for themselves. Yeah, I noticed that, many times.
The condo was sold for a goodly amount and a brand-new house in an up-and-coming neighbourhood, 20 minutes walk to King and Bay, was purchased, a perfect city house it was, with 2 car covered parking, very rare downtown.
It so happened that the rather difficult closing of the house occurred on my 50th birthday. I took the day off to deal with legal issues and there were some big problems, I had a very crappy and stressful day, when I phoned Zona to say the closing occurred, please come home now, she said she couldn’t because she didn’t yet get me a BD present. I said, don’t go shopping, come home, which she did, and a 50th BD vegetarian dinner was made by Zona’s brother and girlfriend, quite a mess was made, presents from all except my wife.
I waited about a month, Zona had never said happy 50th BD, she hadn’t got me a card, no present, like it never happened and not important.
I knew what this meant, it was another fuck you, it was a stick in the eye, who behaves like this? I didn’t yet know.
In her large bathroom, after hitting the snooze button the usual 10 times, I told her that I am stunned, shocked, pissed off and embarrassed by your ignoring of an important BD that is noted by loved ones all over the world. She cheated me out of this normality and left me with a very ugly memory. “Are you going to leave?”, she asked–a second fake tear rolling down–“No”, I said, and went to work, a place I understood.
Seeing my anger, Zona eventually arranged a European trip of apology, along with a hand-written card of apology, the words of which contained a word salad that expressed no apology at all, as well as a square shaped gift watch of apology. The square watch was gold, meaning she either didn’t remember that I vehemently dislike gold stuff in general or that she did remember and got me a gold watch anyway, just for fun. Well, I couldn’t wear a gold watch, so I made an exchange for a large, quite silver, chrono, not really my style, but few choices at the store in question. It was stolen out of my luggage on our return from our last Caribbean trip. Perfect.
Then it happened, the only considerate and normal thing Zona ever did for me—which was to bring me home two cans of Pepsi, of which I was out. I didn’t even ask her to do that, probably stopped asking for her to do anything. I was ecstatic, over the moon, perhaps she can come around to a little bit of normal.
But no, as her career was progressing more than well, her already big physical head was bursting with self satisfaction and I’m becoming less necessary and more irritating. I put up with a lot, but I’m not a push-over.
A former boss of Zona’s decided to supplement his salary by conspiring with a back-office accomplice, with whom he was canoodling, to increase the amount of real invoices and somehow pocketing the difference when paid by the client. A few years after he was caught, charged and found guilty, in conversation Zona commented, “Ohhh, I don’t think what he did was so wrong”. I was stunned–stealing money from your Partners—that’s OK with her. Embarrassed too, again. Very worried, confusion and body vibrations stronger.
We were up north, arguing about something as usual, to what ever Zona had just said, my reply was, “well, actually everything is for you”.
She reared back on her chair, folded her arms tightly over her chest, fixed me with her black stare of hatred—she said, “Ohh, I don’t believe that!”.
As I looked into her daggering eyes, my mind went to the story Zona told me of her first abortion during teenage years, she ended up in hospital, her mother at her bedside knowing what just happened, but Zona vehemently denying and lying, “No, No, No, I didn’t”, she repeated. All narcissists lie, the Literature says, and not very well says I.
Yep, I said to myself, she doesn’t believe that everything has been for her, and she never will and I’m in trouble, it’s all been a waste, I’ve been an idiot, not yet understanding that I was, plain and simple, a victim of a marriage by lies and guile via the well understood Narcissist Relationship Trajectory, a veritable road map of my time with Zona. I guess I always knew that if I ever needed her, I would be shit out of luck.
A smart Royal Banker I worked with on a Potash Mine insolvency, taught me that there is a time to take control and for me that time is now, but how?
Back in the city that night, I took Henry for a longer walk than usual and came up with a simple plan, I would just become like her, any opportunity to irritate, complain and call out her fucked up behaviour, I would take, except for the angry snooze button and that other thing, which were lost causes. Every time she was late, which was every time a meet up somewhere for some reason was arranged, every slight, every insult to partnership or to me would be pointed out with fervour. I now know, my 6th sense was running things, and it somehow knew before me that that Narcissists only response to challenge is to play the victim, like Trump demonstrates daily, and as the Literature describes. So, for me to just leave would be defeatist, and very costly, my 6th sense determined.
I took a Friday off to shop and do other things to go north as soon as Zona came home, she to take the afternoon off. She arrives home at 3:30 on the dot and we get going, no attempt even to apologise or explain why the plan she agreed to was scuttled, just haughtiness, too fucking bad, she silently says.
Years of what I now know as Narcissistic Relationship Abuse—came out in that black Toyota Four Runner, she would see that things have changed, my anger did register on her as it was supposed to. It also registered when, for example, she came home at 4:30 am after a work event/dinner which would continue early that morning. Since we know getting out of bed is not Zona’s strong point, I was more than concerned that she wasn’t home at midnight and she wasn’t answering any of my numerous phone calls, and she had to be in Scarborough (!) at 7:30 am. She had some explanation of where she was, but nothing about not answering her phone.
Who Is Zona? 